


My Turn, Pine Tree

by Ciphernetics



Series: Codependance [2]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Again, I repeat, Light BDSM, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, bill being a lil shit, cursed butt plug, mild dubcon, not human bill, triangle bill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:19:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ciphernetics/pseuds/Ciphernetics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to "Don't trust people on the internet". Bill gets revenge on Dipper. Poor, poor Dipper. Pretty much PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Turn, Pine Tree

**Author's Note:**

> So! here's the sequel. Wherein Bill is an absolute asshole of a sexual deviant, and dipper may or may not have stockholme syndrome. Also there's a cursed butt plug, so enjoy that.  
> I can't believe I wrote this.

By the time Dipper had managed to manifest a full-blown panic attack, Stan had arrived home with Soos and Wendy in tow. Mabel hadn’t come back- Dipper checked his phone and there were a couple missed texts from her. Apparently she’d met up with Pacifica at the movies and gone over to her house for the night, again. Dipper guessed by now that Mabel had left enough clothes at Pacifica’s house to supply an outfit for tomorrow, and no doubt Pacifica would have already bought her own toothbrush for sleepovers. 

Oh, well. Mabel’s presence would have really helped tone down his panic, but then again he really wasn’t sure he could bring himself to tell her what happened with Bill. It just seemed too personal, and Dipper wasn’t sure why but he kinda felt like he didn’t really want Mabel to even know about Bill being able to… that. A shiver ran down Dippers spine as the memory flashed past again and made his stomach feel icy for a split second, that weird numbing cold that makes you feel like you just went over a speed bump. Bill’s parting words replayed over and over in Dipper’s ear.

“Sweet dreams, kid.”

Brr. 

….◊….

Dipper twisted the shower taps off and stepped out, ruffling his hair with a towel and wrapping it around his waist. The shower had helped calm him calm down a bit, until Grunkle Stan had yelled for him to “get out, kid, I ain't made of water!” Dipper had yelled back that technically, 70% of him was, and he’d earned a couple threatening old-man grunts in response. Dipper threw on his pyjamas and emerged from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, absolutely not humming pop songs to himself. He also did not dance around a little on the way to his room. Not a bit. 

Aaaaanyway. His bed looked terribly inviting; worrying does take a lot of energy out of you, after all. Dipper glanced over at Mabel’s side, which was somehow sparklier ever y year. Sometimes, if Dipper slept in a little, the sun would reflect off her many glittery posters and plushies, right into his eyes. Not the most fun way to wake up, but Dipper wouldn’t ask her to change it. I mean, she puts up with the mess on his side of the room. It was a twin thing. Dipper collapsed dramatically on the bed and threw an arm over his eyes. He was so tired. But he really, really didn’t want to see Bill. Not after today. But… so sleepy…. Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s just the dreamscape, it’s not real life. Right… 

I’ll just rest my eyes for a minute.

….◊….

This was the longest hallway Dipper had ever been in. He couldn’t even see the end of it, not that there was much light to see by, just a few torches on the walls every now and then. They looked like they were being held by clawed, skeletal hands, and Dipper scoffed at the cliché. Inside, he actually hoped they weren’t real bones. ‘2spooky4me’, Mabel had said once.  
Dipper wasn’t sure why he had thought of that.

He kept walking, and every now and then he’d find a door. They were all locked so far, but he tried each one for safety’s sake. No two knobs were the same, and Dipper was pretty sure the last one had been coated in sprinkles, which made him wonder if Mabel had anything to do with this. After what felt like a couple hours or possibly even minutes walking at a steady pace, Dipper reached a door with a golden pyramid for a door knob. He could guess what that meant. Hoping against hope that this one didn’t open, Dipper reached for the knob, and because the universe likes to fuck with Dipper a whole lot, the knob turned and the door opened with a very sinister click. Clicks can be sinister, shut up.

Inside, Dipper found an almost empty room, with a fireplace and a few mismatched lounge chairs scattered about. The fireplace was on, but that was no fire Dipper had ever seen before. For one, it was kind of green. And it almost looked… sharp? Dipper wasn’t sure how else to decide the little forks of flame that snapped around like tiny lightning. He did a quick sweep around the room, but he appeared to be alone in here. 

“Hello?” He called. “Anyone around?” The fire made a particularly loud crack and Dipper spun around. There was an eye in the fire. Just sitting there, staring at Dipper. He grimaced. Dipper knew that eye. It blinked at him, and then a voice. 

The voice.

“Oh, good, you’re here! I just have a bit of business I need to finish up, so sit tight for a minute, kid. I’ll be back soon!” The eye disappeared with another crack, and Dipper pressed his nails into his palms a few times out of nervous habit. He checked behind his shoulder, but of course the door was gone. Just him, this weird fire, and a whole lotta chairs. He chose one, a tall-backed, plush monster of a thing, and settled himself stiffly on it. He picked at the buttons on the fabric with a shaky hand, counting the floorboards. He got to 138 before the fire roared up and Bill jumped out with a little somersault, landing a little too close to Dipper for comfort. Dipper yelped a little and scooted back on his chair. Stupid triangle and his theatrics. 

“So, kid. Boy have WE got a few things to discuss!” 

Dipper drew his legs up and hugged them. “I’m still really sorry,” he mumbled. Bill laughed and leaned forward to grip the arms of Dipper’s chair.

“Kid, don’t be sorry! I mean, you can feel sorry for yourself. That’s fine. But if you’re worried about my ‘feelings’,“ Bill said with air quotes, “You can relax.” Dipper just stared at him suspiciously.

Bill floated up a little, turning upside down and coming awfully closed to Dipper’s face. “Pine Tree, you are terribly interesting, you know that? And,” he said, snatching Dipper’s cap, “pretty adorable. Especially when you’re scared. You humans and your fear, heh.” He threw Dipper’s cap into the fire, where it disappeared with a pop. 

“Hey!” Dipper protested, and Bill pressed a hand to Dipper’s mouth, flipping right side up again. “Look, Dips, do you understand what took place earlier?” Dipper nodded and pulled Bills hand off his mouth. 

“I-I think so?” he stuttered. “I mean, you’re not human, so maybe it’s different? O-or something?” 

“Not as much as you’d think,” Bill said. “You humans sure are inventive, though. I mean, I have never seen so many things designed just for simulating procreation! It’s like an obsession with you guys!” Dipper was aware he was starting to blush. His ears felt like they were burning. 

He looked away in the most casual manner he could manage, and mumbled “I wouldn’t know.” 

Bill barked a laugh. “Pffft, kid, I know what kinda stuff you look up on that interweb. Don’t try and tell me you haven’t seen a thing or two. We’re in the dreamscape, pine tree; this is ‘my domain’, as they say. Can’t hide stuff here. Speaking of which,” Bill looked at Dipper sort of sideways, “I noticed you hiding a certain something earlier. Let’s talk about that, hm?” 

Dipper groaned and covered his eyes. “Please, no. That was awkward enough as it was.”

“Which is exactly why we should talk about it!” Bill chirped. “One, it funny to see you embarrassed, and two, I think we should do it again!” 

Dipper was floored. He peeked out from his fingers. “What. WHAT.” 

Dipper had the distinct impression Bill was smirking at him.  
“It was fun, so let’s do it again.” He repeated, simply.

“Fun for you, maybe!” Dipper snapped. “That was the worst moment of my life!” 

“Aww, I’m hurt. But I’m not so sure you weren’t having a little fun, too,” Bill said, threading his black fingers through Dipper’s hair. He gripped a handful, pulling it taut to an almost painful point. Dipper breathed in, sharply. “In fact,” Bill continued, “You’ve been thinking about it all day, haven’t you.”

It wasn’t a question, but Dipper answered anyway. “N-no,” he said quietly.

Bill ignored him. “You’re right, though. I had a lot of fun, and I’m feeling pretty nice today, kid. So, I think I’ll give you want, just this once, no deals or strings attached.” 

“I want to wake up.” Dipper said.

“No you don’t.”

Bill snapped his fingers, and the room changed. The fire was gone, as were the chairs. Underneath Dipper there was a bed. An oddly familiar one. In fact, this whole room looked a whole lot like his room back home, except there were no posters on the wall, no knick knacks on the dresser, no books piled on the nightstand. Like a plain imitation. “Humans feel more comfortable doing this kind of thing in a bed for some reason, right? Look, I even made it look like this for you!” Bill said proudly. 

Dipper didn’t really know how to respond to that, so he just said “Uh... yeah. Thanks?”  
Bill clapped his hands together. “You’re welcome! Look, I added something of my own too!” Dipper felt something cold snap around his wrists and ankles. He tried to scramble back, but didn’t get very far. There were leather cuffs on him, each one attached to two chains that ran under the bed. Dipper’s stomach flipped and he desperately looked for a way to get them off, but there didn’t appear to be any openings in them. Not even a joining seam. Just... there. Dipper shot an accusing glare up at Bill. 

“Get these off!” he shrieked.

“Nope. See, that trick you pulled back there, with the binding circle, that was pretty nifty. But, yknow, that wasn’t very nice of you. Imagine being stuck with barely any room to move!” Bill gasped in mock horror. “Well, now you don’t have to.” 

“I already said I was sorry!” Dipper yelled. 

“Yeah, I know. But I’m not.” Bill snapped his fingers again and one of the chains retracted a little, forcing Dipper’s arms to his sides. “I think it’s time we got started."

Dipper swallowed. His mouth was dry, and his legs felt like jelly. “Please don’t...” Bill ignored him and grabbed a handful of his shirt. 

“This’ll have to go, of course.” 

Dipper didn’t see how it happened, but all of a sudden his shirt just kind of fell apart at the seams. Bill tugged the pieces of fabric from his upper body and tossed them into a corner. He stared at Dippers chest for an uncomfortable amount of time, and Dipper shifted nervously, trying to sit up, but the chains prevented that. “Say,” Bill said, pointing to one of Dipper’s nipples. “I always wondered why you human males have these. I know they serve a purpose for females, but I’ve never seen them do that ‘producing liquid’ thing on a male.” 

Dipper cleared his throat, trying to keep a level tone. “I’m, ah, not sure. I think it’s residual from the, the embryo stage of pregnancy, or something? We learned a bit about it in class, so-“ Dipper cut off with a yelp. “Don’t touch!” he shrieked. 

“Why not?” Bill flicked the other one, and Dipper jolted.

“T-they’re sensitive..!” his hissed.

“Oh yeah?” Bill questioned. “Huh, I see what you mean. They’re all weird and hard now. Pfft, human bodies. So complicated.” He floated in a circle around Dipper, observing him all over. Dipper’s face was burning red now. 

“Ohh...you like it.” Bill said, more to himself than Dipper. 

“No I- I don’t like any of this! Just, let me go! Please, Bill? I’m pretty much begging here, man!”

Bill waved his plea away. “Save the begging for later, kid. I’m tryin to look atcha.” He snapped his fingers again, a sound Dipper had started to hate with a passion, and a ball gag appeared in Dipper’s mouth. Oh, great. A ball gag. Just wonderful. He made tried to protest, but the gag, well, gagged him. Any sound he made was muffled and incomprehensible. Bill drifted back down, shrinking a little and standing on Dipper’s stomach. A small part of Dipper’s brain, the ever-curious part, noted that Bill didn’t appear the have any tangible weight.

Bill leaned forward and laid a hand on Dipper’s chest, sending a shudder through him at the weird contact. Ills hand didn’t feel anywhere near as warm as a human, barely above room temp. Bill twirled his fingers around, drawing all sorts of patterns on Dippers skin. He was being oddly quiet, but Dipper just supposed he didn’t really get the opportunity to observe humans like this often. Bill just kept drawing, all swirly patterns and sharp lines. He made a sort of spiral, right to Dipper’s left nipple, and flicked at it again, softer this time. 

Dipper jerked back again, and tried to say “Stop doing that!” but it came out more like “aw oong ah!” Bill just kept rubbing that ting, pinching it and rolling between his fingers with interest. Dipper’s breathing was getting harsher, just a little, and he was doing his best to stay still despite the electric feeling that went down his spine with every tweak of the sensitive nub. Bill switched to the other one, giving it the same treatment. 

Dipper was finding it hard to breathe now. He shook his head wildly, and Bill looked up. “Oh. Not breathing so good, there?” He vanished the gag and Dipper took in a lungful of air. “Haahhh...” he breathed. Bill tried both nipples at once.

“A-ah!...” Dipper gasped, arching up slightly.

“Kid, you are really responsive. These things are pretty much like ‘on’ buttons for you, aren’t they?” Dipper looked away. Bill chuckled. “Speaking of which…” He moved over to stand beside Dipper’s hips. “This is familiar!” he commented. He hooked a finger through one of Dipper’s belt loops. “These will have to go too, though.” Just like his shirt, Dipper’s shorts fell apart and Bill tossed them again. 

Dipper bit his lip. There was no hiding it now. His boxers only served to outline the shape of his half-hard cock. Bill reached out without warning and took hold if it. 

“Ah!” Dipper gasped. 

“This is even more sensitive, right?” Bill asked. He seemed genuinely curious. 

“Y-yeah,” Dipper panted. 

“Hm,” Bill hummed. “I wanna see.” And just like that, Dipper’s underwear went the same way as his clothes. Wow, just completely naked. Dipper wondered if he could get any more embarrassed. Then Bill gripped his dick again and his mind blanked. “Oh, Hey! This is even harder than the nubs!” Bill said, sounding surprised.

“Be careful with it,” Dipper breathed. “No scratching or anything, not there.” 

“Not there,” Bill repeated “But everywhere else?” he said, sounding obnoxiously satisfied.

Dipper spluttered. “No! No scratching at all!”

“Agree to disagree, kid!” Bill said in a singsong voice. 

Before Dipper could complain some more, Bill stroked his erection a few times, bringing it to full hardness. A moan forced itself out of Dipper’s throat, and he bit his lip to try and stifle it.

“Hey, don’t do that! I was loud for you!” Bill complained, and a shock of arousal swept through Dipper’s body at the memory of Bill moaning loudly, staring at him with those half-mast eyes. Bill noticed, noticed that tiny intake of breath and the way Dipper’s stomach muscles contracted slightly. He narrowed his eye at Dipper. “You really liked that, didn’t you?” Dipper whimpered. “You liked seeing me like that, kid?” Bill sped up his strokes. Dipper strained against his restraints and breathed harshly, trying to thrust up into Bill’s nimble black fingers. “I know you did. I saw you getting hard, watching me, watching a demon moan for you, pine tree.” 

“Ah... haah...” Dipper was so close. Bill was really not holding back. “Oh, fuck, Bill,” he whined. 

“Close, huh, kid?” 

“Y-yes, yeah,” Dipper panted. That numb heat spread up through his legs and coiled in his belly, and he felt himself about to come. Bill let go of his cock and stepped back. “Bill!?” Dipper said in a breathy voice.

“Not done, here, pine tree, not even close.” He did something with his hand, sort of waving, and the restraints released Dipper and he felt himself floating up slightly. He was flipped over, landing face down back on the bed. Before he could react the restraints were back on. 

Confused and still very, very hard, Dipper sat up awkwardly. He stared at Bill, sort of dazed. “What are you doing?” he asked.  
“We’re gonna try a few things!” Bill replied brightly. 

“Like... like what?” Dipper asked tone suspicious. 

“Get on all fours.” 

Dipper just sat there, staring at him. Bill narrowed his eyes and grabbed a handful of Dipper’s messy hair, tugging it forward harshly. Dipper groaned at the way the pain spread over his skin, almost like a bittersweet pleasure. 

“All fours.” Bill repeated. 

Dipper obeyed, leaning forward and settling on his knees and hands. He could feel Bills footsteps as he walked across his back, jumping down to stand between Dipper’s ankles. This was so far past the line. But Dipper didn’t really want to stop anymore. He’d given up even trying to feel embarrassed. Bill was going to do what he wanted anyway, so he might as well try and enjoy the ride. Bill’s hand rested gently on one of Dipper’s buttocks, doing those same swirly sharp designs. 

And then suddenly he slapped it.

Dipper cried out and lurched forward, craning his neck to stare at Bill. “What the hell?!”

“That was fun!” 

And then he did it again, then again, switching sides. Red bloomed across Dipper’s ass following each consecutive smack, and he just dropped his head and whimpered. Bill thought he heard him swearing under his breath. A few more and he stopped. Dipper’s breathing was shaky, but when Bill reached around and ran a finger down Dipper’s length, he was still just as hard. Maybe even a little harder. Dipper arched, trying to move further into Bill’s hand, but it was taken away and Dipper groaned brokenly. 

“Look under the pillow, there, pine tree.”

Dipper reached underneath the pillow and groped around till he found something hard. Pulling it out, he saw it was a small, clear bottle. The label made it very clear what this was for. Bill held out a hand for it. “Give it to me,” he said. 

Dipper tried to sit up, gripping to bottle tighter. “Uh, B-Bill, I really don’t know about this...” He hesitated. “I mean, I’ve never really done this before, like, at all.” Bill did that hand flip thing again and the bottle of lube slipped from Dipper’s grasp and floated over to Bill. 

 

“Pine tree, don’t worry so much,’ he said. “This is the dreamscape, remember? Not real life for you, not really.” His voice sounded almost kind, and Dipper actually felt a little better. He was right. It was the dreamscape; Dipper’s real body was safe and sound asleep in bed. What harm could it do to let himself have this? It’s not like anyone would ever know, except for Bill obviously, but he knew everything anyway. Plus, Dipper reasoned, Bill seemed like he was in a nice enough mood. Not quite trustworthy, but Dipper didn’t think he’d try to hurt him with this.

“Okay,” he sighed, leaning forward again. “Just, yknow, be… uh, gentle.” Jeez, what a cliché. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” He added.

“Oh course I do, Pine tree. You don’t see humanities darkest secrets for all of history without picking up a few things.” Dipper heard the click of a cap and cradled his head in his arms. He couldn’t help it, he was nervous. Something cold touched him- Bill, running a slick finger down Dipper’s tailbone, skipping over his hole and pressing down on his perineum. Dipper shuddered. Bill brought his hand back up and traced it around Dipper’s entrance before gently pressing in, only a bit. Even so, Dipper breathed out heavily and tensed up. The feeling was so foreign. Bill hummed quietly and pressed in further, moving in and out a little to spread the lubricant a bit.  
Dipper tried his best to relax, and after a minute Bill added another finger, using a sort of scissoring motion to open him up a bit. Dipper shivered at the feeling, and his breath hitched a little as Bill twisted his fingers around a bit. Oh god, what the fuck is wrong with me. I’m getting fingered by a demon. A floating triangle demon.  
Bill curled his fingers and rubbed around, and suddenly Dipper felt a hot spike of pleasure dash through him. “Oh god,” he moaned, “what was that?”  
“Your prostate,” Bill answered, and did it again.  
Dipper jerked back, trying to get more of that feeling.  
“Eager, huh?” Bill laughed, but Dipper was too far gone to care.  
“Fuck, keep going,” he gasped. Bill pumped his fingers in and out in a steady rhythm, but pretty soon it wasn’t enough for Dipper. “Faster,” Dipper whined. Bill acted like he didn’t hear. He tried again. “Bill, please, faster.” 

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Bill reached around and gripped Dipper’s neglected cock, stroking it to match his other hand as he sped up, hitting Dipper’s prostate forcefully. Dipper cried out and bucked into Bill’s hand. A few drops of clear pre-cum pearled at the tip of his cock, dripping over Bills fingers and onto the bed sheets. Dippers head felt like cotton, and his legs were shaking badly. Once again, Bill stopped. He removed his fingers from Dipper, and Dipper moaned at the feeling of emptiness that followed. Bill’s other hand slowed down but kept stroking, and Dipper scratched at the sheets in irritation at the teasing. “Why do you keep stopping?” he demanded. 

“Just getting something!” Bill chirped and waved his hand, an object appearing in it. “Remember when I was talking about all those toys you humans have?” He held it up for Dipper to see. It was sort of thick, with a tapered end, (it kind of reminded Dipper of a pine tree, ironically) and made of black rubber, it looked like. Bill turned it around and Dipper noticed the base- shaped like a triangle, of course. And was that… real gold? Dipper dropped his head to his arms again.  
“Oooohhh my god. Are you serious.”

“Yep!” 

“Are you seriously going to put a… where did you even get that.” 

“Stupid question. It’s mine, obviously.”

Dipper didn’t even want to know.

“…Fine.” 

“Yay!” Bill cheered. He pulled his hand off Dipper’s cock and used to click open the lube and spread it over the plug. He dropped the bottle and pressed the tip of the plug against Dipper’s hole. Dipper whined quietly as Bill slowly pushed it further and further in. it was so much thicker than Bill’s fingers, and the slow burn of the stretch was oddly intoxicating. At a certain point it suddenly slid it and nestled snug against Dipper’s prostate. Dipper’s face was burning, almost as much as the slap marks on his ass. “And,” Bill said, sounding weirdly proud, “Look what else it can do!” He snapped those damn fingers again, and- oh. Oh, that was different. Wow. Of course it vibrates.

Dipper could feel the vibrations, like an electric shock right up against that sensitive little cluster of nerves. Bill tapped it and the vibrations got a lot more intense. Dipper almost screamed, his knees giving out from under him. Bill just watched as Dipper kenned against the mattress, shaking from the electricity running through his bones. Dipper was really far gone. He rubbed his cock against the bed sheets, desperately seeking any kind of friction. It was all getting too much; he actually thought he might die for a second. Until the vibrations stopped. That frantic pleasure melted away, and Dipper felt like crying. Brushing his sweat-soaked hair out of his face, Dipper looked up at Bill, floating cross legged in the air beside his head. “Sorry, kid, time’s up.” 

Dipper gaped at him. “What?” “You’ve gotta wake up, and I’ve got something I need to attend to.” The whiny sound that came from Dipper was so childish Bill had to laugh. “We’ll finish this soon, okay?”  
“But, Bill, I am so close, really, just like two more minutes! Please?” Dipper huffed.  
“As much as I’d love to stick around and listen to you beg, pine tree, this thing really can’t wait. You’ll survive.” Dipper grimaced and flopped his face onto the pillow. Bill closed his eye and blue fire sputtered in his hands. “Now, wake up.”

….◊….

When Dipper woke up, he was… really, really sweaty. Gross. He sat up and threw off the clammy sheets, checking his watch. Almost 7. Good, that means Stan wouldn’t be awake yet, probably not for a few hours. The shack didn’t open early on Thursdays, and frankly Dipper was relieved. Despite having slept the whole night, he was exhausted. He blushed a little, and shook his head to clear his thoughts. He stood up and went to grab a change of clothes, and that’s when he saw it.

It. 

Just, sitting there. 

On top of his dresser, looking for all the world like that was where demon sex toys belonged.  
Dippers first reaction was to panic, naturally. He thanked his lucky stars Mabel was at Pacifica’s, and Stan was asleep, but even so it really looked just so… perverted, sitting there in the open. Dipper snatched it from the dresser. There was a tag on it, and he turned it over to read it. It just said ‘wear it’.

Dipper felt like throwing it across the room.

Nope. No way. Nooooo. Nuh uh. No thank you. He held it in his hand for a moment (It was really quite heavy. That had to be real gold, Dipper decided) before pulling open his sock draw, stuffing the plug inside a sock, putting that sock in another sock, and then shoving the whole thing way, waaay at the back of the drawer. There. Problem solved. And now Dipper could go about his day pretending a floating triangle didn’t finger him and send him a priceless butt plug through his dreams with a note to wear it. Nope, Dipper was a perfectly normal guy with normal interests and things to do!

He turned around and jumped. It was there again, on the dresser! He rooted through the drawer, and yes, the sock was still there, but it was empty. And now the thing it was sitting back where it was in the first place. With a new note. Dipper picked it up and read it. ‘Seriously. Wear it.’ 

Dipper growled, and stalked to the bathroom with a pile of fresh clothes, a towel and the plug hidden underneath it all, just in case Stan was around. He reached the bathroom and locked the door behind him.  
“Bill!” he hissed. He knew the demon would hear him. He waited for a response, and when the room remained silent, he tried again.

“Bill Cipher, get over here right now!” 

The mirror turned black before it revealed Bill’s eye. “Pine tree, I’m a little busy. Can’t be there right now, not in person. Whaddya want?”

Dipper held up the toy and hoped his expression said enough. 

“Oh, did you like my little gift?” Bill chuckled. 

“No, I did not!” Dipper hissed. “I thought that whole thing was going to stay in the dreamscape!”

Bill rolled his eye. “Well kid, technically everything happens in the dreamscape for me.” Dipper scowled. “Hey, and get this- that thing is gonna follow you around until you use it.”

“I noticed!” Dipper managed to quietly shriek. “What if Mabel or Grunkle Stan saw this? How the hell would I explain that?”  
“Well, Dip, there is one place you could put it where it won’t move,” Bill said, tone insufferably smug. Dipper covered his face with a hand. 

“Oh my god. You’re an asshole.” 

“I’m a lot of things, Pine tree. Here, take this. You’ll need it.” A familiar little bottle materialized on the counter. Dipper groaned and sat down on the edge of the bathtub. 

“I hate you. I hate you so much.” 

Bill laughed. “Love you too, kid. See you soon. Remember, always watching! Byyeee!” and with that, the mirror was just a mirror again. Dipper blinked. That was an odd thing for Bill to say. Then again, Bill wasn’t exactly an expert on social dynamics. Dipper shrugged it off. He had a much more pressing problem.

It looked like there was no way out of this. 

With a sigh, he turned the shower on and waited for it to heat up. While he waited, Dipper picked up the plug and looked it over. He hadn’t actually looked too closely at it. There was something engraved on the bold triangle base. It was a heart. Literally, an accurate human heart. Dipper raised an eyebrow. Was that supposed to be Bill’s attempt at romance or something?  
Dipper set the thing back down and stripped off his clothing, stepping under the spray. It felt amazing to wash the night off of him, and he could almost forget the thing for a little while. But, of course, there it was, haunting the corner of his eye at every turn. Well, might as well get it over with.

Picking up the lube, he poured a bit onto his fingers and reached down to prepare himself. He felt really stupid doing this, but then he thought of Bills parting words. “Always watching.”

And then Dipper was getting hard again.

Just from the thought that somewhere, a demon was watching him fuck himself on his own fingers. 

God, I am so screwed up.

He reached for the plug and kneeled down, positioning his legs wide apart. Slathering some lube on the toy, he held it underneath himself and lowered himself onto it. A moan bubbled up in his throat, but he kept it down. The plug slipped in, and Dipper gasped. He adjusted it a bit so the base was resting comfortably against him, and stood up. That didn’t help. He shuffled around a bit to test his hypotheses, and yep, he could feel it with every step, pressing against his insides. He let him himself make a few whiney noises, just to get back at Bill, and he curled a hand against his impatient prick and began a slow stroke, rubbing his thumb over the head with each pass.

And then came a pounding at the door. Dipper jumped and heart almost burst.  
“Kid, you been in there long enough. I wanna shower and someone needs to open shop.”

Dipper smacked his forehead. What did he do to deserve this?

….◊….

Stan had sent Dipper downstairs to open shop immediately. Dipper grumbled as he dressed, deciding to throw on one of the sweaters Mabel had made him, the really big ones for him to ‘grow into.’ This particular one reached almost to his knees, and was appliqued with some kind of sharkodile playing tennis. 

He tugged on a pair of jeans and his least-ratty trainers, ignoring the odd feeling of the toy inside him, and headed downstairs with a very tennager-ish frown. After the sign was flipped, the door propped open, and the merch given a very superficial dusting, the shop was officially opened. Not that anyone was around.

Dipper took his place sitting on the stool beside the cash register, and grabbed a comic form under the counter to flip through. ‘The adventures of doctor professor-detective muscleman jawline and his sidekick, pot twist boy.’ This issue, plot twist boy revealed that detective jawline’s long lost wife was alive and being held in a coma in a top secret research facility. Dipper was pretty sure they’d done that like 17 issues ago. He read it anyway, doing his very best to ignore certain other things. 

And not move around on the stool too much. 

Mid-morning arrived, and with it a busload of tourists. Stan did his usual shtick, and Dipper rolled his eyes at the admiring ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s of the crowd. Eventually they arrived back in the gift shop, milling about and touching everything with their grabby tourist hands. A few approached the counter with junk to buy, and Dipper unenthusiastically started ringing them up. And then he almost fell off his stool. 

Dipper had forgotten that thing could vibrate. 

Truth be told, he’d actually almost forgot about it for a little while, until it turned on out of nowhere and started sending shockwaves up his spine. He straightened up with a squeak, drawing a few curious looks. Dipper grit his teeth and shoved the keychains and bumper stickers he was holding back at the customer. 

“I’m really sorry, but can you hang on for a minute? Something’s... something’s come up.” Yeah it has. .. That was terrible. Dipper lurched off the stool and stalked over to where Stan was telling a couple customers a very convincing story of a werewoodchuck. “Grunkle Stan I really have to go I’ll be back in little while can you take care of the register okay thanks” he said quickly, dashing past before Stan could stop him. He rushed to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.  
He sat down on the lid of the toilet and held his head in his hands. This was so not right. The vibrations were still going. In the quiet of the bathroom Dipper could actually hear them, too. As far as he knew, there was no way to turn it off without Bill’s help, and he didn’t dare actually take it out- Bill had made it clear that if he did that, it was going to literally follow him around, popping up in plain sight wherever he went. 

Dipper took a moment to reflect on his life. All because of a stupid idea, Dipper was stuck with a goddamned cursed butt plug and a demon who was apparently obsessed with tormenting Dipper. This had to stop.

“Bill,” he growled at the mirror. Nothing. He tried again.

“Bill Cipher!”

Nope. He tried a couple more times with every variation of Bill’s name he could think of. When his own red face just kept staring back at him, he gave up and sat back down. His jeans were becoming uncomfortable tight, and Dipper stared apprehensively at the bulging zipper. It would only take a minute, and that freaking vibration was making everything a whole lot harder, quite literally. Dipper glanced at the door, double checking the lock. Slowly, and hand crept down and palmed his hardness. Dipper breathed out heavily through his nose at the sweet feel of the friction.

He popped the button and drew his zipper down quietly, relieving some of the pressure. He moaned quietly with relief. “Haah...” Dipper palmed himself again, biting his lip. His brow furrowed as he traced his fingers over the outline in his boxers. He reached in to pull himself out. 

“Wa-ho there, Dip. Can’t be doing that!”

Dipper’s head snapped up, and he pulled his hand back in alarm. The mirror was black again, with that one eye staring at him. Dipper wasn’t entirely sure how a single eye managed to convey such delight, but somehow Bill did. 

“I was trying to talk to you before! Why were you ignoring me?” dipper said accusingly.

“I told you, I had a few things to take care of. Deals to make, things to kill, you know the drill. Hey! I got you something from my last one!” The mirror shimmered, and out of the glass dropped some kind of severed limb. It was thin and scaly, with a kind of green and purple shine to it. Three huge black claws tipped the end, looking razor sharp. Whatever it was, it apparently had been torn off its owner, a clear liquid (Blood?) oozing from the ragged flesh at the other end. 

Dipper cringed. “Oh, jeez. What the hell is that?” 

“It’s a gift!” Bill replied. “Make the claws into a necklace; they’re good for warding off pixies and stuff.”  
“Pixies?”

“Yeah,” Bill squinted, “Those guys are weird. I don’t like’em.” 

Dipper nodded slowly. “Okay… uh. Oh! Anyway, what the hell are you doing?” Dipper demanded.

Bill pulled an innocent face… or eye. “I don’t know, kid, care to be more specific?” Dipper glared. 

“Why is this... thing, on? Keeping it in me is one thing, but you can’t turn it on in the middle of work!” he hissed. Bill laughed.  
“Sure I can! Look, I can even do this!” Suddenly, the intensity of the vibrations ratcheted up a few notches, and Dipper’s legs almost gave out. 

“Ah!” he panted. His cock twitched in his boxers, and he reached down without thinking to press his hand against the bulge. Bill made a tutting sound. 

“Like I said, pine tree, that’s not on the menu right now.” The vibrations lessened again, though not disappearing, and Dipper heard the sound of fingers snapping. Two thing silver bangles appeared, wrapping themselves around his wrists, snug against the skin. That was certainly familiar. His hands jerked back, settling at his sides. 

“Hey-Wha!?” Dipper exclaimed. He lifted his wrists to look at them, and just like the cuffs from the dream, these silver things didn’t seem to have any clasps to open them. “What are these for?” Dipper said, narrowing his eyes at the mirror.  
“I haven’t paid you back yet. Sooo, those things are to make sure you can’t touch yourself without my permission! It’s only fair, right?”  
“You’re a sadist.” Dipper spat.  
“And you’re a masochist! What a pair we make, huh?” Bill said gleefully. “Anyway, gotta go, kid. That thing wants its arm back, and I think it’s mad. It’s pretty hilarious, actually. See you later, Pine tree!” 

The black colour of the mirror swirled away. Dipper was left scowling at his own face, and he dropped his head in his hands. He looked back down at his cock, straining against the cotton. It couldn’t hurt to try. He reached down cautiously, and nothing seemed to happen till he got within a few millimetres of his erection. Something pushed his hand to the side, like trying to force two wrong magnets together, and Dipper felt like screaming. 

He tried again, with both hands, from every angle he could reach, and every time his hand was pushed away by that invisible force and to top it off, that stupid plug was still buzzing away inside him, nudging against that sensitive spot nonstop. Dipper actually pulled at his hair in frustration, trying anything to distract himself. 

A heavy knock on the door made him jump. Stan’s voice came through the wooden door. “Kid, I don’t wanna know what you’re doing in there but you’re supposed to be working. Get back to the register.” Dipper hurriedly tried to zip himself up. Tried. Apparently these stupid bangles thought that was a little too close, and he could only get the zip up halfway. He cursed under his breath and tugged his jumper down. Thank god it was too big for him, or he’d have to explain a couple things to Stan he really didn’t want to. He suddenly remembered the clawed limb sitting in the sink in a pool of clear slime. Cursing under his breath, Dipper rinsed it off quickly under the tap so it would stop dripping blood or whatever everywhere, and shoved it under his jumper. 

He pushed open the bathroom door, nearly knocking into Stan. “Sorry, I... I was feeling really sick.” Stan looked him up and down, and then nodded. 

“Well, if you’re okay now, go back to work. There’s only one or two people left, then you can take your break if you want.”  
Dipper nodded and kept his face down. He shuffled past Stan, running up to toss the scaly limb under his bed before he went back downstairs. He took a shaky breath. Only a few more hours.

….◊….

By the time the shack had closed up for the day, Dipper was almost sure he was going to die.  
Bill had toyed with him all day, turning the plug off and on again constantly, and messing with the vibration speed. Every time Dipper began to hope he was bored, the toy would turn back on. Stan approached dipper.  
“Geez, kid, you really don’t look well. What’s up with you?”

He was right, Dipper looked absolutely wrecked. His hair was matted and sticking to his forehead from sweat, and his face was so red Dipper thought he could probably burn someone. His breathing was shallow and uneven, and his entire body was shaking like a leaf. 

“I’m f-fine,” he breathed. “Just, sick, yeah…” 

Stan gave him an uncertain look. “Well, why don’t you skip dinner and go, I dunno, lie down, or something? I’ll tell Mabel to stay another night at that blonde brat’s place. There’s painkillers in the bathroom cupboard, if you need them.” 

“Thanks, Grunkle Stan,” Dipper mumbled, and went to his room. He closed the door behind him, and pushed a couple of his heaviest encyclopaedias in front of it just to be safe. Dipper shimmied out of his jeans as fast as he could and tugged down his boxers. He reached behind him and tried to grasp the gold base of the plug, but his hand slipped away. Apparently the bracelets wouldn’t let him touch that, either. 

With an exhausted, aggravated groan, Dipper collapsed on his bed. He pushed a pillow over his face and screamed into it until there was no air left in his lungs. He lifted the pillow and stared at it, gasping for breath.

An idea struck him, and his heart fluttered for a second. Of course! He couldn’t touch himself, but something else could, right? Dipper shoved the pillow between his legs and rutted against it. The fabric was by no means ideal but it was pure heaven compared to the torture Dipper had endured today. 

He rolled onto his knees, bracing the pillow against his arms, and ground his crotch against it. He was leaking again, leaving wet smears on the pillow case that he’d have to clean later but right now he couldn’t care less about. The plug turned off suddenly, and without the added stimulation, Dipper just couldn’t get close enough to the edge. He kept rutting the pillow until it began to hurt, and then he actually cried.  
Not that he’d admit it, but he was just so frustrated, and dizzy, and tired, and horny, and angry, that he couldn’t stop a single tear escaping from the corner of his eye. 

“Bill…” he whimpered, closing his eyes and curling up on the bed. “Please,” he begged the air. 

“Aw. That’s adorable.“ 

Dipper opened his eyes, but otherwise didn’t move. Bill floated beside his bed, leaning in mid-air on a cane. 

“You don’t look so good, Dip. Actually, you do, but probably not the way you’d like.” 

Dipper sat up and reached out to curl a hand around Bills cane. He yanked him close to his face, and glared into his eye.  
“I need to come,” he growled, his voice dark and ragged. “Right now. I will literally devote my entire life to finding out how to destroy you if you not take these damn things off.” He held up his wrists. 

Bill visibly shivered. “Wow,” he whispered. “Okay. I guess you’ve waited long enough. Turn around.”  
Dipper did so without hesitation. 

“All fours.” Bill ordered. 

Dipper got on all fours. 

Bill reached forward and eased the black plug slowly out of Dipper. Dipper heaved a sigh of relief, and almost collapsed again. He was so tired. Bill stroked a hand along his back, sending shivers up Dipper’s spine. 

“Okay,” he said. “Turn around again, sit down in front of me. And take that sweater off.”

Dipper flipped around and crossed his legs. He pulled the sweater over his head and tossed it to the floor, not even bothered about his nudity. Bill looked him up and down, slowly. Dipper watched the ceiling so he wouldn’t meet his eye. Bill dropped to the mattress and sat cross legged opposite Dipper. He was a little smaller than normal, only reaching Dipper’s chin. He eyed Dipper’s flushed cock with unabashed curiosity, and then looked up at Dipper’s face. 

“Put your hands behind your back, pine tree. And Keep them there. No moving, got it?”

Dipper nodded and leaned back on his hands. Bill reached forward and wrapped his small fingers around the base of Dipper’s cock. Dipper took a sharp breath in and twitched. Bill rand his hand up and down the length of it slowly, swirling his thumb across the tip. Dipper whimpered. Bill laid his other hand on Dipper’s thighs and dug his nails (claws?) in. Dipper yelped and his hand moved to grab Bills hand. 

“No touching,” Bill reminded him, and Dipper reluctantly returned his hand back to its position behind his back. Still stroking Dipper with one hand, Bill used the other to draw those designs he was doing last night, all over Dippers thigh, except this time his sharp nails left angry red lines behind that burned in a weirdly pleasant way. Dipper hissed quietly. Bill could see his stomach muscles twitching, and he knew he was close already. Honestly, he was surprised Dipper had lasted this long after the day he’d had. He increased the speed of his strokes, twisting his wrist every now and then.

Dipper was moaning audibly now. “Oh, ah, god, fucckkk...” His hips twitched, trying to thrust up into Bills hand, but he was held down by the other, still scratching along his skin. His breathing was getting frantic, and his hands scratched at the bedsheets. “Bill,” Dipper moaned loudly, “I’m- ah, gonna- fuck, keep going, keep going! Ah-” 

Bill felt Dipper’s dick twitching in his hand as he came. Dipper was shaking, completely silent. He’d been waiting for this for hours, and the feeling of the orgasm was just... overwhelming. His eyes rolled back and his body spasmed, and a few choking noises forced their way up through Dipper’s throat. 

Bill watched thoughtfully as Dippers stomach was painted with that warm, white liquid. Humans were so weird. He swiped a finger through the mess and examined the liquid. Gross. He wiped it on the bed.

Dipper fell back, rolling on to his side. Aftershocks shuddered through him, and his eyes were impossibly heavy. His brain fogged over, and he fell asleep, leaving Bill floating beside his bed. 

“Well then.” Bill remarked. 

He made to leave, but stopped. Sighing, he waved a hand and Dipper’s blanket floated over him. With one last look at Dipper’s sleeping form, he left in a swirl of fire.

….◊….

When Dipper woke from a dreamless sleep, he felt better than he’d felt in weeks. He yawned and sat up, scratching at the mess of dried come on his stomach. And then he froze. Bill hadn’t taken off the bracelets.

Later on when the bathroom mirror was found inexplicably broken, Grunkle Stan would attribute it to a bird flying in the window and Dipper would agree.

**Author's Note:**

> I really can't believe I wrote this.
> 
> I like reviews. They give me the honeglows something awful.


End file.
